


Of Fire Alarms and Fancy Dress

by BerityBaker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, First Dates, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Unilock, also awkward ending so sorry about that one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is super late, obviously, and not even finished the way I wanted. Who knows, perhaps next year I'll write more of it, or at least give it a proper ending. For now, enjoy this one-shot that went out of control and dangerously close to the realm of full-out AU.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Of Fire Alarms and Fancy Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This is super late, obviously, and not even finished the way I wanted. Who knows, perhaps next year I'll write more of it, or at least give it a proper ending. For now, enjoy this one-shot that went out of control and dangerously close to the realm of full-out AU.

Sherlock Holmes hadn't had the most pleasant week. 

He'd known going to uni was supposed to be an exciting time, but while the other students were busy getting acclimated with their surroundings and "forging lasting friendships" (when the dean had used that exact phrase at orientation, Sherlock had rolled his eyes), he shut himself up in his dorm, sometimes doing experiments in the corner he'd set up on his side of the room with beakers and flasks and  _always_ avoiding having to interact with people. 

Each day when his lectures ended, he would take the lift up to the third floor of his building, take the long walk to the end of the corridor where his room was, and slam the door on the world. The only people he saw outside classes were his roommate and the people he unfortunately had to endure being trapped in the lift with. He had taken to passing those few moments by deducing them. By the end of that first week, no one wanted to risk taking the lift, for fear of the new student with the piercing gaze. 

Sherlock's roommate, at least, thought he was more intriguing than frightening. Victor even spoke with him sometimes, about things other than the dormitory they cohabited. He was a chemistry student himself, so he found Sherlock's designated "experiment corner" interesting, if a little eccentric, and he didn't mind as much as most when Sherlock accidentally deduced things about where he'd been and what he'd been doing. In fact, instead of getting angry, he would laugh and confirm Sherlock's suspicions. 

It didn't help much though, and that first week at uni was utterly boring to Sherlock. 

It was during his shower, exactly a week after moving into his new room, that things began to get interesting, because that was when, just as he'd rinsed the shampoo from his hair, the fire alarm went off. 

With a sigh, he reached around the curtain, but met only the terrycloth of his towel hanging on the hook. 

_Damn_. He'd left his dressing gown in his room again. 

By the time he made it down the stairs and into the car park across from the building, he'd already attracted plenty of pitying stares and childish giggles. He couldn't be arsed to care, however, until he noticed the boy standing next to him. 

Short, but solidly built, with a touch of visible muscle, he looked a sight in his plaid boxers, with short, blond hair ruffled round one ear and mouth opened wide in a yawn. He'd been asleep, Sherlock realized, just as he looked at him and smirked. 

"Caught off guard, huh?" His speech was thick and slurred with sleep, but his eyes were playful. 

"Fire alarms don't exactly run on a schedule, do they?" Sherlock snapped, immediately turning red. "And I don't suppose you were prepared, either." 

The boy, who Sherlock realized was older than him--he really should think him a man, but one of the things he'd noticed was the difficulty of calling other students 'adults'--looked sleepily down at his half-naked form and shrugged. "S'pose not," he muttered, then grinned at Sherlock. "But at least it's easier for me to keep my bits covered." 

Sherlock felt his wide eyes and stiffening spine betray the calm he wanted to convey as he glanced hurriedly down to make sure his towel hadn't shifted in some indecent way. 

Not that he cared. Why should he care? 

The golden-haired boy held out a hand and as all of the blood rushed south from Sherlock's head at just the simple contraction of deltoids he realized the answer to that question. 

"I'm John. Watson. Third floor." 

"Right," Sherlock muttered, barely managing to shake the proffered hand while holding the towel in a subtle yet deliberate way. "Sherlock Holmes." 

"You're on the third floor too, right? Victor's roommate?" 

Sherlock nodded. 

"Maybe we'll see each other around sometime." 

When the all-clear was called and Sherlock got back to the shower, he most certainly did not think of John Watson while having a wank. 

At least, that was what he told himself. 

+++ 

Sherlock noticed John more and more in the hall, and even ran into him in the bathroom once, an entirely frustrating experience as they were both going in for a shower. Whenever John saw him, he would nod and smile, something Sherlock was sure he'd seen every single person on campus do, not to mention something that annoyed him to no end. But it was somehow different when he saw John do it, like they were partaking in a private joke. 

They didn't speak again until nearly two months after the fire alarm incident. When the lift doors opened that day, Sherlock was both delighted and mortified to see his silent acquaintance, who smiled and nodded just as he always did when Sherlock joined him. 

It had become such a habit of his to study his fellow occupants of the lift for clues about their recent activities that Sherlock couldn't keep himself from doing the same to John Watson. 

Just put clothes in the wash, headed upstairs for a bit of leisure before studying. Exam tomorrow. 

He was startled when John spoke to him. "How're things?" 

"Oh, um...fine." 

"How are you finding things at uni?" 

Before he knew it, Sherlock was blurting, "Exceedingly dull." 

John laughed. "At least you're honest. That's more than you can say about most." 

Oh, he's bitter about something, Sherlock thought. He watched him, looking for answers. Family drama. Need more data. 

John's brow furrowed comically. He smiled. "You're staring at me." 

"No I'm not," Sherlock replied too quickly, snapping his eyes forward. 

"You were! You were staring!" 

"Alright, fine, I was," Sherlock sighed, irritated at having been caught out. 

"See anything interesting?" John waggled his eyebrows as they stepped off the lift. 

"Only that you've got a biology exam you're worried about, your trip home last weekend was particularly stressful, and you've recently been considering going into the army." 

John's steps faltered, as though he were about to come to a halt. "How on earth could you possibly know all of that?" 

"I don't _know_ , I noticed." Sherlock saw that they had passed John's room, but John was still walking with him, so he explained the things about John's appearance that had tipped him off. 

"That...was amazing," John said after a moment. 

"You really think so?" 

"Of course." 

"Tell that to the rest of the building." 

John's eyes widened. "So it's  _you_ that everyone's afraid of?" 

Sherlock shrugged. They had reached his room. He unlocked the door as slowly as he could, sure that John would like to get back to whatever movie he was watching so that he could prepare for his exam. When he couldn't avoid it any longer, though, Sherlock opened the door. 

And then immediately slammed it shut again. 

"Sherlock?" John prompted at the look on his face. 

Sherlock just stared, at complete loss for words. 

"Sherlock?" 

"I..." He trailed off. 

"Yeah?" 

Sherlock looked up at John. "Victor...Victor is..." 

John looked alarmed. "What is it? Is something wrong?" He reached for the door handle, the key still turned in its hole. 

"Don't!" Sherlock shouted suddenly, and then John just looked puzzled. 

"Sherlock, what did you see?" 

"Victor is...with someone." 

"You mean...? Oh.  _Oh_." John laughed. "He's shagging someone?" 

Sherlock nodded and leaned against the door. 

John watched him sink to the floor. He sat down as well before saying, "I guess I'll sit here and talk with you 'til they're done." 

Sherlock's head turned almost painfully quickly. "You will?" 

"Of course. It's the least I can do." 

"For what? I haven't done you any favors." 

John looked stumped. He looked like he was questioning everything he'd said up to now, wondering why he'd said used those particular words and kicking himself for not sounding more clever, and it struck a dangerously hopeful chord in Sherlock, one that was quickly drowned out with the voices he'd heard every day since primary school, the ones that told him he wasn't good enough, that he would never be normal enough to have friends, and that no one outside his family would ever love him. He hadn't heard those voices since starting at uni, but he hadn't experienced anything to the contrary either, save Victor, and so he took those voices as gospel. 

But here was the most beautiful person Sherlock had ever seen, sitting on the floor with him outside his dormitory while his roommate fucked some guy in the middle of the day, just to keep him company, and the situation was so bizarre he almost laughed, but instead he surprised even himself by asking, "Are you doing anything Friday night?" 

John answered, startled, "I'm going to a friend's Halloween party." 

Sherlock cursed himself. He'd forgotten about Halloween. Of course John had plans, he actually had friends. And what had he been thinking anyway, that John would want to spend time with him? That he would want to go on a date with him? 

"Would you like to go with me?" John suggested, unsure. 

Sherlock's thoughts screeched to a full stop. He narrowed his eyes. "Go with you?" 

"I didn't mean--I mean, if you don't want to, I--you don't have to." 

"Yes." 

"Yes?" 

"Yes, I'll go with you." 

John smiled, his sudden nerves making it more endearing even than normal. "Right. Okay." 

Sherlock was grateful that the door opened at that moment, because if it hadn't he might have done something he would regret. 

Victor's 'friend' stepped out of the room, fully dressed though thoroughly disheveled, and practically ran down the hall to the stairs. 

Sherlock and John looked at each other and grinned, and this time Sherlock was sure they were communicating telepathically. 

"John," Victor said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" 

"I thought I'd keep Sherlock company while he was stuck outside," John countered, an eyebrow cleverly raised. 

"Oh. Well." Victor cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry, Sherlock." 

"It's fine. Will Jeremy be visiting our room often?" 

He cleared his throat again. "Erm...well, I hope so." 

"Good shag, was it?" John said, and he and Sherlock collapsed into giggles. It was the first time in his life that Sherlock could have said he almost fell over from laughing so hard. 

"Let's hope he can get over the embarrassment of his partner's roommate walking in on him about to reach orgasm," Sherlock muttered, sending John into a fresh fit of mirth. He resisted saying something else to make John laugh. It was a nice laugh. 

Victor, however, looked horrified. "I know I shouldn't be surprised at this point, but how did you get that at just a glance?" 

"It's not like I was looking on purpose!" 

"Right, sorry. I'll shut up now." 

"And I should get to work," John said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Sherlock." He'd made it all the way to his room before turning and adding, "Oh, and Sherlock? The party, it's fancy dress. Hope that's not a problem." With that, he winked and disappeared through the open door. 

+++ 

"I look ridiculous." 

"John is gonna love it," Victor said, straightening the crown atop Sherlock's head. He'd been a valuable resource in finding a costume--it turned out his scavenging skills were nothing to be scoffed at. The outfit he'd found was a touch too roomy in places, however, and at the moment he was busy fastening bits of fabric in the most flattering way possible. 

Sherlock stopped fidgeting. "You really think so?" 

"Absolutely. He's all for that couple tripe, he just won't admit it." 

"But we're not a couple." 

Victor stepped around him just to give him a look that said "Yet." 

"You know the way he was looking at you the other day? I've known him for two years, been to dozens of parties hosted by mutual friends, and I've never seen him look at  _anyone_ like that," he told Sherlock, who blushed. 

"That means nothing." 

"Do you like him?" 

"Yes," Sherlock replied immediately. 

"Then it means everything. Budge up, you need another pin." 

Minutes later, Sherlock admired the figure he cut in hastily but masterfully modified fancy dress in the mirror hanging on the door. "Where's  _your_ costume?" he demanded of Victor. 

"I'm wearing it." 

"No you're not," Sherlock protested. 

"Aren't I?" Victor pulled apart his dress shirt, revealing some sort of superhero getup. Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

There was a knock at the door, and when Sherlock froze Victor bolted over to open it for him. 

"Hey, Victor. Oh, you're not going as Clark Kent  _again_ , are you? That's just....Oh, hey, Sherlock." 

Sherlock tugged at the hem of his polyester tunic, but was otherwise the embodiment of calm and collected. "Hello, John. Your costume is..." He didn't know what to say. Nice? Lovely? Well-fit? 

When it was clear he wasn't going to find the words he was looking for, John said, "Yours too. A prince, am I right?" 

"Obviously." Sherlock tried to resist rolling his eyes. He really did. 

"Then we match," John replied with a smile, and all of the tension left Sherlock's shoulders. Victor was right. John was glad they matched. He shouldn't have been so nervous; John had asked him to accompany him to the party, after all. Clearly he thought of Sherlock as his date, right? It was just all happening too quickly for Sherlock to process. 

"Shall we?" John asked, holding out his arm--the one without the wooden shield attached to it--in Sherlock's direction. 

"I suppose," Sherlock replied, hesitantly placing a hand over the sleeve of John's costume. 

"Later, boys," Victor hollered after them. 

"See you, Victor." John looked over at Sherlock as they set off in the direction of the lift. "Your costume really is great, you know." 

Sherlock thought perhaps they were looking at different costumes. The fabric was hardly quality, and the tights were a gaudy green colour that made Sherlock suspect they'd been stolen from the costume stores after the theatre company's production of  _Peter Pan_. But he didn't point this out. Instead, he replied, "You look great as well." 

It was true that John had hardly gone all-out this Halloween, but that didn't change how great he himself looked in his cheap costume. The too-shiny metal plates attached to his shoulders made them look even broader than they were, and the wooden sword swinging from his hip made Sherlock think of other things below the waist, which in turn made him go bright red. 

"Do I? You know, I was worried about the faux leather..." 

"It's fine." 

"...and whether the helmet is too much..." 

"Not at all." 

"...and the way the sword keeps bumping into things." 

Sherlock bit his lip, but he couldn't determine whether it was out of embarrassment or in order to keep himself from laughing at the image that had entered his brain. "It's brilliant," he choked out. 

"You think so?" 

Sherlock nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John discreetly looking him up and down before pressing the button to call the lift. "I don't suppose I could ever stand a chance against you, though." 

"What?" 

They stepped into the lift. "You mean you didn’t pick that outfit for exactly the way your arse looks in it?" 

Sherlock's jaw dropped. "I--Victor chose it." 

"Oh. Well then he has a good eye for making other people look entirely too attractive for their own good." 

"At least you can dress yourself just as well." Sherlock nearly clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he'd said it, but maintained the clever air he'd just regained. 

Instead, it was John's turn to blush, and as Sherlock saw it spreading across his cheeks, he felt a sense of pride. He'd made John Watson smile nervously, he'd made the blood rush to his cheeks. It was the single most important achievement of his life. 

He decided this night might be interesting. 

+++

John's friend, it turned out, was in one of Sherlock's classes, and had announced an invitation to them all that Sherlock had promptly dismissed and forgotten about. But when he and John stepped through the door, Mike greeted them both jovially. 

"Victor told me you were coming, Sherlock. I have to say, I was stunned. But then he told me John asked you, and, well..." He winked. 

John laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Shut up." 

"It's about bloody time, though," Mike went on, and Sherlock's eyebrows knit together. Mike looked at him. "This bloke hasn't shut up about you for a month. Don't think he even really realized he mentioned you so much. Funny, having so much to say about someone you met only once." 

John was looking at his feet, but he wasn't ashamed. 

"And he didn't even  _try_  to make it sound platonic, for christssake." 

"Then it's a good thing I accepted his invitation to your party." 

"Yes, it is." 

He smiled knowingly at John, who punched his shoulder again and said to Sherlock, "Drinks?" 

Sherlock nodded and followed John into the sitting room. 

Plenty of Mike's company were already plastered, and if he had had a chandelier, Sherlock found it difficult to doubt whether someone would have been swinging from it. He took the drink John handed him as a girl Sherlock recognized from class stumbled through and latched onto someone dressed as a matador. 

"Everyone certainly is enjoying themselves," John remarked. 

"It appears so, yes." 

"Are you?" 

"We've only just arrived." 

"So, no?" 

"Of course not, there hasn't been time." 

John smirked. "What do you say we change that?" 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And how d'you propose we do that?" 

John indicated the doorway with a nod in its direction. "Dance with me?" 

Sherlock nodded and looked into the room, then stopped in his tracks. The space was packed, with music booming through barely visible speakers in the corners. 

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up. This was going to be fun. 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I wanted so much for this fic, but I have to move on from it for now. Maybe someday. In the meantime, go ahead and [send me ideas or headcanons](http://holdencaulfieldinthetardis.tumblr.com/ask) for this AU or almost any other. They will most certainly be written about eventually, because that is my curse.


End file.
